


Escapes Me

by FunkyinFishnet



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amnesia, Developing Relationship, F/M, Family, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Polyamory, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 07:51:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1810882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkyinFishnet/pseuds/FunkyinFishnet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lagertha and Ragnar run a pub, it's full of people who need whatever comfort and stability such a place and its inhabitants can provide. They meet Athelstan who's been mugged and roughly robbed of more than a few memories. He rebuilds himself and finds what he needs and wants in a way that he didn't before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Enter, Stranger

**Author's Note:**

> The fic's title comes from Sir Alec Guinness' second volume of autobiography _My Names Escapes Me_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title was an oft-used phrase in the 1990s British kids game show _Knightmare_ , used to summon the next contestants.

 

 

The whistle that pierced the air grabbed Lagertha's attention immediately. The children were already in bed, thank fuck, so Lagertha didn’t have to waste time convincing Björn that he needed to stay inside the pub. The whistle had been Ragnar's signal that deep fucking shit was happening that the kids shouldn't see.

 

With Torstein and Rollo beside her, Lagertha disappeared out of the back door to find Ragnar in the ally that the staff used for cigarette breaks and for unloading whatever the suppliers regularly dropped off there. Ragnar's knuckles were bloodied and a couple of young guys were limping away. One of Ragnar's hands was resting on the shoulder of the crumpled figure at his feet. Lagertha frowned, Ragnar supplied the story.

 

“They thought they'd have privacy here to take his money and beat the shit out of him.”

 

Lagertha crouched down; the man was unconscious, young with dark curly hair and a delicate bone structure. He had cuts all over his face and arms; he was going to be very sore when he woke up. Lagertha cupped his cheek, her gaze not leaving him when she addressed her husband.

 

“Who is he?”

 

A wallet landed in her lap care of Ragnar. “Athelstan Reynolds. One card, hardly any cash for the muggers to take.”

 

Lagertha looked at Athelstan for a moment more, then got to her feet decisively, the wallet held tight in her hand. She glanced towards her husband.

 

“He's untidy out here. We'll get a reputation.”

 

Rollo snorted. “Compared to what we've got at the moment a reputation would be an improvement.”

 

“It would be dull.”

 

Ragnar bodily shouldered his brother as he spoke, Rollo pushed back unrepentantly but his expression gave him away. He agreed with Ragnar. Torstein was the one who raised a pertinent point.

 

“Is this something we need to worry about?”

 

Ragnar's gaze met Lagertha's. Lagertha raised an eyebrow. “We'll see.”

 

*

 

Ragnar carried Athelstan into the pub and dropped him down onto one of the back room sofas. The on-duty staff all came back to at least glance at the unconscious body. Ragnar checked Athelstan's pulse and shouted for Floki. Lagertha stood close and watched the stranger carefully. His clothes were worn but well-cared for, his hair was clean, he didn't have any visible piercings or tattoos. He was a blank. Lagertha was still holding his near-empty wallet.

 

Floki raised an eyebrow when he saw the figure splayed out on the sofa. “You've been collecting again, Ragnar.”

 

“Should he not be here?” Lagertha asked simply.

 

Floki made a considering noise and used his phone to snap a photo of the man's face. Floki was the pub's cook, lord of peculiar but oddly delicious flavour combinations that kept many customers coming back for more. He was also a man with a secretively symbiotic and very useful relationship with the internet. His girlfriend Helga fitted right in beside him. At that moment she was tapping away at an iPad, nodding at whatever Floki was muttering. Floki checked the iPad once, twice and then snorted, pocketing his phone.

 

“No red flags yet,” was all he volunteered, already heading back into the kitchen, Helga not far. “The worst he can probably do is throw a Bible at you. We need maple syrup and turnips, where did Arne put the glass noodles?”

 

Ragnar was squinting at the out-cold figure and then dragged a finger across Athelstan's neck – there was a black metal cross hanging there on a chain. It could be a fashion statement, though that didn't fit with everything else Athelstan was wearing. Rollo snorted.

 

“Of course he didn't have any money on him.”

 

The 'him' in question began to stir and startled visibly when he opened his eyes to find Ragnar looming over him. Lagertha didn't pull her husband back yet though; instead she watched Athelstan's face. It was quite something to watch. Of course Ragnar was staying close to him. Lagertha could sense Rollo rolling his eyes.

 

“How do you feel?” asked Ragnar, still looking at the stranger intently.

 

Athelstan frowned and managed to sit up; wincing as he glanced down at his arms and then rubbed a hand through his messy curls. He was clearly in pain and his expression was too bewildered. Lagertha frowned.

 

“What happened?” Athelstan asked, confusion prominent in his voice.

 

Now Ragnar glanced back towards Lagertha who raised her eyebrows. Hopefully Floki would dig up some comprehensive background information on Athelstan Reynolds because it sounded like they were _all_ going to need it. Lagertha stepped forward and noted how Athelstan’s eyes widened and how he swallowed as he looked at her. Lagertha’s mouth inched upwards, Ragnar reached back to press a proud excited hand to her thigh.

 

“What do _you_ remember?” Lagertha replied pointedly.

 

Athelstan opened his mouth but no words emerged. Instead panic and upset flooded his features. Ragnar sat back on his haunches, warm at Lagertha’s feet. Well, _this_ was something to worry about.

 

*

 

Helga cooked Athelstan a basic all-day breakfast and Lagertha made sure that he ate it and that he drank plenty of water too. Ragnar stayed close to Athelstan, which Athelstan didn’t seem to mind. Lagertha watched them both keenly. Of course Ragnar was interested; Athelstan was an attractive unknown quantity and he could cause snags in the less legal aspects of the Lothbroks' work. But Lagertha couldn’t stop looking at him either and Ragnar knew it.

 

Athelstan glanced down at the wallet that Lagertha had handed back to him, leafing through the few items in it. His forehead creased.

 

“I can remember where I grew up, the orphanage’s garden and the boys I shared a hall with. I know I’m not married, but when I try to remember what I was doing here…”

 

“In London?” prompted Ragnar.

 

“In London.” Athelstan’s free hand reached up to touch his cross pendant, maybe an automatic gesture that his body remembered, something that calmed him. “I don’t know what’s...”

 

He hissed out a noise suddenly, obliterating whatever he was going to say next, a hand rising to his head. Lagertha leaned forward and touched his scalp lightly. There was a sizeable bump there, which explained a lot.

 

“You shouldn’t push,” she told him, her hand lingering before dropping to firmly touch his shoulder. “Is there anyone you can call?”

 

Athelstan checked his pockets helplessly; he didn’t have a mobile phone apparently since Ragnar hadn’t taken one off the muggers.

 

“Cuthbert. Father Cuthbert, he’s my boss.”

 

“A priest,” surmised Ragnar, an amused smile curling at the corner of his mouth. “Are you a priest too?”

 

Athelstan’s expression scrunched and then relaxed. “No, I… I think I work for the church though.”

 

Ragnar’s smirk only grew and Athelstan didn’t seem embarrassed or concerned about the fact that he was currently sitting between a husband and wife who hadn’t stopped staring at him. Apparently he didn’t scare easily, or didn’t remember that he did. There was something more than a little dazed about his behaviour.

 

Rollo handed Athelstan a well-poured pint of beer, an amused glint in his eyes. “You’ll need it.”

 

*

 

Athelstan stayed in the back room all night. Helga sat with him; chatting about who everybody was and making him smile. Helga was good at that and Athelstan seemed comfortable with her and still worryingly dazed. He stayed in Lagertha's thoughts as she worked behind the bar, expertly pouring pints and mixing cocktails. Ragnar's thoughts were very obviously and similarly occupied, Lagertha knew what that particular smirk of his meant.

 

“He needs to see a doctor,” she reminded her husband.

 

Ragnar shrugged. “John makes house calls.”

 

Lagertha's smile was a ghost. “You've called him already.”

 

“He'll be here within the hour.”

 

Lagertha shook her head but John was a good idea. He was discreet and would accept an even more discreet payment. Ragnar and Lagertha stayed out of as many official systems and channels as possible, they had friends who helped them when they needed it, just as Lagertha and Ragnar often helped certain people in need too. Athelstan was a distraction, but he wasn't posing a problem yet.

 

Lagertha checked several news websites, local and national, but there was no story about Athelstan's absence. Perhaps nobody was looking for him.

 

John arrived via the back door and talked easily to Athelstan, checking his head and his pupils’ reactions to light etc. Lagertha recognised the tests from the multiple times that fights had broken out both in and around the pub. John didn't say a word about that though, or about the less obvious times that he'd been called on to medically help the Lothbroks' group.

 

He smiled and patted Athelstan on the back. “You’ve got a couple of cracked ribs and some nasty bruising coming and you've had your bell rung but since you still remember quite a lot, I'm not too worried. Don't push yourself, it should all come back to you.”

 

“When?”

 

John shrugged. “We don't completely understand the human brain yet. Some people find that after suffering head trauma, it's only a matter of days before their memories return, for others it takes a lot longer. I'll come back to check on you in a week.”

 

Athelstan looked thoughtful as he thanked John for the diagnosis. Torstein saw the man out, leaving Ragnar and Lagertha with Athelstan who was staring down at his hands, examining the marks he’d gotten there. Ragnar was impatient and clearly wanted to ask questions, but Lagertha stayed him with a look. She touched Athelstan’s knee, a firm gesture that got Athelstan’s attention, his gaze swinging upwards to settle on her. His lips were soft and Lagertha deliberately didn’t look at them for too long. Ragnar’s ravenous nature was enough for now. She temporarily restrained and hid her own hunger, it wouldn’t do to overwhelm Athelstan yet.

 

“What are you thinking about?” she asked plainly as though she expected an answer.

 

Athelstan’s expression crinkled. After his initial and understandable panic, he’d been surprisingly calm about the gaps in his memories. That could be bad; a cover for the true depth of his anxiety, but every expression that Athelstan wore and every movement he made was raw and honest. Lagertha knew what lying and repression looked like. Perhaps, Lagertha realised, instead of anxious or worried Athelstan was actually feeling entirely numb. That would explain a lot.

 

She left her hand on Athelstan’s knee, he didn’t ask her to remove it.

 

Then he turned abruptly to Ragnar. “How long do you think I was out there before you found me?”

 

Ragnar raised his eyebrows. “Hard to say.”

 

“Whywere _you_ out there?”

 

Ragnar’s smile sharpened. “For some peace and quiet.”

 

“Oh, sorry.”

 

Ragnar nudged him. “Why? You might not remember your own name if I hadn’t gone looking for the moon.”

 

Athelstan smiled a little, his gaze dropping to his hands again, his cheeks pinking. Ragnar looked at Lagertha, her mood contained in his eyes. Lagertha brushed her shoulder to Athelstan’s, he might have pinked some more. Perhaps he'd begun to finally properly notice his surroundings, perhaps the shock was starting to wear off. The blush suited him.

 

Lagertha purposefully broke the silence, clearing her throat before she spoke. “You can stay here, nowhere else will have a room free at this time of night.”

 

Athelstan looked surprised. “I…if you’re sure, I don’t want to impose.”

 

Ragnar laughed and lay a proprietorial hand at the nape of Athelstan’s neck “If we didn’t want you imposing, I wouldn’t have carried you over the threshold.”

 

Athelstan went a very bright colour and Lagertha squeezed his knee before removing her hand. “Blankets are in that cupboard, pillows too. I hope you're a deep sleeper, we’re getting deliveries early tomorrow.”

 

Athelstan nodded, looking a different sort of stunned now. Lagertha ran a hand through his curls as she stood up, Ragnar joining her with a wicked smile.

 

“And if you get lonely, come and join us, priest.”

 

Athelstan’s eyes became impossibly wide at that and he didn’t seem to know what to say. Lagertha took pity on him, but she made sure to catch his gaze as she left.

 

“Good night, Athelstan.”

 

“Sweet dreams,” was Ragnar’s parting shot as he followed his wife back out into front of house.

 

People were beginning to clear out for the night. Lagertha said goodbye to some of the regulars and began clearing tables. Ragnar joined her, an impossibly pleased look on his face as he slung an arm around her waist and drew her close. His breath was hot and Lagertha could feel an answering heat blossoming under her skin. Her hands were steady as she stacked glasses though.

 

“Someone will miss him,” she reminded her husband.

 

Ragnar shrugged a shoulder carelessly. “Perhaps.”

 

She dug sharp fingers into his ribs, cutting through his headstrong lust. Good, now he was paying attention. “Someone will miss him, Ragnar.”

 

Ragnar glared at her but he nodded shortly. Lagertha watched him wander purposefully towards the kitchen, no doubt to ask Floki and Helga what more they’d found out about Athelstan. Lagertha wondered too, but she continued to stack the empties. Behind the till Siggy raised her eyebrows meaningfully; Lagertha inched up a shoulder in reply. Nothing more needed to be said.

 

*

 

Athelstan didn't join them that night. Lagertha thought about him though, in flashes as she rode Ragnar, her husband thrusting just as powerfully as her, his grip hard at her hips. Lagertha bent down to bite his mouth.

 

“He'll hear us.”

 

Ragnar grinned. “Of course.”

 

Lagertha wondered what colour Athelstan was turning and came with a shudder. In the morning, there were bruises on her hips and bite marks across Ragnar's neck.

 

*

 

The children weren't up yet or at least, if they were awake they weren't running around. Gyda was probably reading and Björn was most likely playing his DS; they could do what they liked as long as they were quiet. Lagertha kissed her husband and pulled on his ratty old dressing gown before going downstairs. Her feet were bare and the pub was still and quiet. Lagertha breathed in. There'd be information in their inboxes, maybe some news from Floki. She slipped into the kitchen, not noticing how cold the floor was against her feet, and started making enough coffee for two cups.

 

Once the coffee machine had begun working its magic, Lagertha headed down the hallway to peer around the back room's door. There was Athelstan, curled up on the sofa amid a nest of blankets. She watched until she heard a beep from the kitchen. The image of Athelstan remained fresh behind her eyes. She made him a milky coffee without sugar; she couldn't imagine that he'd take it black. She took the cup into the back room and placed it on the table nearest the sofa. She watched the steam rising and how Athelstan's nose twitched in response. She wanted to watch for longer. She wanted to do more than that.

 

Ragnar regularly collected people, but it felt different this time. People always seemed to find their way to The Longhouse pub when they especially needed what it could provide – Torstein had literally had no money to his name and had been drinking alone too much, Floki's latest employer hadn't been able to deal with his eccentric behaviour, Helga had recently lost her sister. In some way or another, The Longhouse helped and people stayed, as regular customers or as staff, as family. Ragnar had good instincts (mostly) and Lagertha happened to agree with them this time. After only one night, the idea of Athelstan leaving felt wrong on a jarring and significant level.

 

Lagertha watched as Athelstan woke up and registered where he was and who was there with him. He scrambled to sit up as Lagertha nodded towards the cup of coffee waiting for him.

 

“How did you sleep?”

 

Athelstan rubbed his eyes. “I don't know if my dreams were memories or not.”

 

Lagertha made a considering noise. “Did they feel real?”

 

Athelstan gently blew away the coffee's steam and drank a sip. He moved, consciously or otherwise, leaving room for Lagertha beside him. She sat down and he coloured again. She stroked a hand down his back and drank her own coffee. She didn't intend to cage him in; he was already like a frightened bird. He needed stability and comfort, not an aggressive drowning. Perhaps there would be time enough for the latter or perhaps they'd never see him again once he found what he needed.

 

Lagertha's mouth turned down minutely but the cup hid her expression. Athelstan didn't have all his memories back yet, that was his primary concern, as it should be. Of course it was hers too. Her other concerns could wait, and they would.

 

Athelstan's shoulder rested tentatively against hers, Lagertha pressed back firmly. She could feel Athelstan relax, it was comfortable, the silence unfurling between them. She wondered if Athelstan was praying, his free hand was playing with the cross pendant again.

 

The door banged open and Björn burst in. “Mum, where's my...Who are you?”

 

Athelstan looked startled but replied quickly enough. “Athelstan.”

 

Björn scowled. “Why is he here?”

 

Lagertha took another sip of coffee. “Your father found him outside last night; someone took his money and his memories.”

 

That got Björn's attention. He stepped further into the room and gave Athelstan a long hard look which he probably thought disguised his interest. “You can't remember anything?”

 

Athelstan smiled cautiously, likely taken aback by Björn's demanding nature. The boy had his father's confidence and overflowing belief that his way was always the best way. Athelstan carefully put his cup down.

 

“I can remember my name, but everything is still hazy.”

 

That was an understatement. Lagertha nodded at her son. “He was hit hard in the head so some of his memories fell out. John says it'll take time for them to find their way back.”

 

Björn immediately reached a hand towards Athelstan's curls and began feeling along his scalp. “There's no hole.”

 

“No, but there's a lump. See?”

 

Athelstan guided Björn's hand to where the lump was and Björn's eyes widened. He gave Athelstan a considering look. “Don't you know how to punch back?”

 

Lagertha cut in before Athelstan could even begin forming an answer to that. “Breakfast, Björn.”

 

Björn let go of Athelstan. “I need a shirt.”

 

“The laundry basket. Get Gyda down too.”

 

Björn pulled a face. “She's already dressed and eating. Will _he_ be here when we get back?”

 

Athelstan looked startled to be included and it was Lagertha's turn to gaze at him consideringly. “We'll see. Shirt and breakfast.”

 

Björn grumbled but left the room. Lagertha could hear him yelling at Gyda and no doubt waking Ragnar up too. Athelstan looked at her in surprise.

 

“You don't know me, why would you let me stay here, with your children?”

 

Lagertha put down her empty cup and turned fully towards Athelstan. His face was so open and honest, had he always been like this, before the mugging?

 

“That's your concern, not that you'd be staying with strangers? In a pub and a city that you don't know?”

 

That struck Athelstan into silence and he stared ahead blankly until Lagertha palmed his cheek. He froze momentarily at the contact but then seemed to press into it. Lagertha held his gaze and Athelstan shook his head slightly.

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

He sounded so lost. Lagertha caressed his cheek. “We like you.”

 

“And that’s enough?”

 

Lagertha firmly pressed her hand to his skin for one more moment before letting go. “It’s a start. Why do you want to stay?”

 

Athelstan frowned and looked down again. He didn’t deny her assumption, so she’d read him right. She waited patiently even though she knew that Ragnar would be showering now and so would soon be making his way downstairs, deep into Athelstan’s personal space again, unnerving and reassuring the man in equal measure. Athelstan looked as though he needed it.

 

Eventually he spoke, his brow severely pinched. “I know who I am, I do, but there’s gaps and whenever I reach for something simple, like what I did last week, there’s nothing to hold onto. What if the things I think I know are just dreams? Things I’ve made up without realising?”

 

“You know your name is Athelstan.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And you know you’re not a priest.”

 

Athelstan’s fingers clutched at the cross pendant. “ _Yes_.”

 

“So how do you know that's real?”

 

Athelstan’s hand splayed across his own chest and his frown deepened as he mentally searched for answers. Lagertha’s palm touched Athelstan’s cheek again, a gentle tap this time to gain his attention.

 

“Don’t push.”

 

He nodded slightly, obeying beautifully. He would be so _interesting_ between her and Ragnar, Lagertha’s hunger kindled but she kept it out of her expression. He still spooked too easily and there was that dazed look in his eyes again, only this time he was looking close to haunted as well. It made Lagertha's free hand tighten into a fist for a moment.

 

Athelstan swallowed before he spoke again. “This all feels solid, here, this pub, you and Ragnar.”

 

That made sense. He was surrounded by memories that he didn’t completely trust, because his dreams felt real and who was to say that they weren’t? He trusted what he saw though and he wanted to cling to that. He was scared enough by what was happening to him that he preferred the idea of staying with strangers over travelling back to wherever his memories told him was actually home. Lagertha stroked his cheek and felt a rush of protectiveness towards him, protectiveness and something else for another time.

 

“Then you can stay.”

 

Athelstan’s face was a picture of awed disbelief but there was a slight smile there too. “Because you like me.”

 

“Because we definitely do.”

 

That was Ragnar, in low-slung pyjama trousers, his chest bare and his elaborate tattoos on display. Lagertha felt Athelstan’s pulse jump and smiled, touching his knee. Ragnar swooped in to kiss her good morning, a deep kiss that was as much a show for Athelstan as it was enjoyable for her. She swatted Ragnar hard on the arse when he pulled away to press a kiss firmly to Athelstan’s forehead. Athelstan looked understandably stunned as Ragnar took the coffee cup from him and drank deeply from it.

 

“Result?”

 

Lagertha’s voice was even. “He’s staying.”

 

Ragnar smile was warm and wicked. “Good.”

 

Athelstan looked even more stunned but he didn’t say anything, he just shook his head and took his cup back from Ragnar, earning himself a surprised laugh and Ragnar’s hand messing through his hair. When Athelstan looked at her, Lagertha was smiling enough to earn her a smile back.

 

*

 

Gyda was pleased to meet Athelstan and immediately showed him where to find a bowl in the kitchen and what sort of cereal did he like? When Athelstan wasn’t sure, Gyda decided that he should try a mouthful of each one with milk. Björn ate his way through a pile of hot buttered toast and a bowl of sugared cornflakes, watching Athelstan intently. Lagertha checked her emails, there was some interesting work news and three emails from Floki with file attachments as well as some information that their guest would need.

 

Lagertha cleared her throat. “Athelstan.”

 

He looked up, having decided on Rice Krispies, and immediately gave her his full attention.

 

“We have a phone number for the church you work for.”

 

Athelstan’s expression twisted, he put his spoon down carefully. Ragnar and Lagertha watched him closely.

 

“I should call them.”

 

It was almost a question and he turned slightly towards Ragnar and Lagertha as he spoke. Lagertha handed him the cordless phone and her iPad.

 

“You should, so that we’re not arrested for kidnapping.”

 

Athelstan’s eyes widened at that and he quickly dialled the number on the tablet’s screen. Lagertha stayed close, checking that Björn really was finishing off his homework and that Gyda had her clarinet ready in its case for her lunchtime lesson. Ragnar hugged his daughter and kept an eye on Athelstan.

 

Athelstan, apparently talking to Father Cuthbert, looked tentative but soon began to smile. Ragnar frowned, Lagertha kicked him.

 

“That’s good.”

 

Ragnar looked dubious after he kissed her shoulder. “Maybe.”

 

Athelstan hung up, he looked a little shaken but he was still smiling. Gyda offered him a spoon and Athelstan’s smile widened.

 

“He was real?” Lagertha guessed.

 

Athelstan nodded. “Yeah, he…he said I’ve been working too hard lately, particularly during mission work in London. I was helping out at one of our sister's churches here, he said that I should take a break from everything.”

 

That explained why Athelstan was in London in the first place. Father Cuthbert sounded very flexible and very sensible, apparently he was going to inform the sister church that Athelstan was taking some time off for his health. Ragnar smirked into his cup of coffee and Gyda looked happy.

 

“Are you going on holiday?”

 

Athelstan smiled at her and with a brief hesitation and a glance towards Ragnar and Lagertha, replied “I thought I might stay here, for a bit. Does that count?”

 

Gyda happily wrapped her arms around his waist and Athelstan squeezed her back. He chatted as he ate, not talking down to Gyda at all and when he noticed the homework that Björn was paging through despondently, he began to point to things and explain them in a way that grudgingly gained him Björn's attention. Ragnar raised an eyebrow at his wife, Lagertha raised one back. This could work; they'd make sure that he didn’t stumble into anything that he’d find troubling.

 

“You can stay, priest,” she told him. “The back room is small but it’s yours for as long as you want it.”

 

“Or until you decide to accept our offer,” Ragnar added, smoky and smug beside her.

 

Athelstan coloured and looked as though he couldn’t believe they were saying that kind of thing in front of their children. Björn just wrinkled his nose and Gyda was too occupied by her sheet music to comment. Their children had heard worse before and always had the most important things explained to them anyway, they were fine. Lagertha kept her gaze on Athelstan. He would have the most important things explained to him too.

 

“I don’t know my pin number, I haven’t got any money to pay…”

 

“Tutor Björn and Gyda,” Lagertha cut through his worries, knowing in her bones that this was good, it was greedy but it was good. “Help them after school and we’re more than even.”

 

Ragnar was looking at her like he very much wanted to fuck her. Athelstan appeared startled and then glanced towards Gyda who smiled happily and Björn who looked less enthused but didn’t put up a fight which said everything. Athelstan’s expression became overwhelmed but also like some kind of weight was dropping from his shoulders, along with a clear flicker of very familiar _hunger_. Ragnar clinked his mug against his wife's, his chuckle growing when Athelstan smiled a little, the expression turning sly as he attempted to snatch away Ragnar's mug. The ensuing struggle was only partly playful, Lagertha sat back and enjoyed the view.


	2. A Shared Quest

 

 

Athelstan tutored Björn and Gyda every day after school, despite Björn's frequent protests. Athelstan revealed a deep aptitude for English and music, helping out Gyda with her clarinet practice. He sang well too but couldn't be persuaded to sing in the pub despite how glad the regular crowd always were to hear a tune sung live.

 

His memories slowly returned as time passed, the bump on his head going down and his ribs and bruises healing. He remembered that he loved the taste of fresh strawberries – he remembered eating them as a treat in the orphanage – while another day he suddenly remembered conversations he'd had with people at his church about the recent Wimbledon final and about ordering more gospels for an upcoming mission event. Floki had laughed when Athelstan had shared that last memory but Athelstan hadn't taken offence. Instead he'd told Floki with a comically solemn expression that he'd pray for him, an expression which had broken into laughter at Floki's outraged reaction.

 

Floki had dug up more information about Athelstan Reynolds. He had apparently led a simple life; he'd worked at his church and had spent a lot of time helping out at the church's soup kitchen. He was an orphan, as he'd already remembered, with no knowledge of his birth parents. Lagertha told Athelstan that they had background info on him if he was interested and while Athelstan's eyes lit up, he shook his head.

 

“John told me I should remember things first instead of reading about them.”

 

He sounded longing though and still haunted, because he still didn't trust what he remembered. Lagertha touched his neck but went back to looking through the account books. Several semi-regular transactions weren't ever noted down because they weren't legal, but they kept the pub together and the authorities didn't need to know about that sort of thing. Athelstan helped with the numbers when he could; he had a better head for figures than most of the staff. It was pleasant to have someone sat beside her as she worked, especially someone who brought her cups of coffee unprompted.

 

When he wasn't tutoring the children, Athelstan worked behind the bar or waited tables. Floki wouldn't let him work in the kitchen and Rollo pointed out that Athelstan wasn't nearly intimidating enough to watch the door. Athelstan didn't mind being behind the bar, taking orders and carrying loaded plates. He told Lagertha that it reminded him of work he'd done before, he could remember waiting tables. Lagertha assured him that that wasn't a dream.

 

Björn told Ragnar that Athelstan should learn how to defend himself, probably hoping for something to laugh at. But Ragnar decided it was a good idea and made Athelstan learn how to block punches and turn people's strength against them. Athelstan didn't go to the gym with Ragnar and Lagertha, they were regulars and Lagertha taught self-defence there too while Ragnar often trained with the boxers.

 

“Why is Ragnar teaching me then?” asked Athelstan when he found out that Lagertha was a self-defence tutor every Tuesday night.

 

Lagertha's smile was edged with amusement. “Because he's enjoys it.”

 

Athelstan pinked beautifully but he smiled and Lagertha began teaching him too. He didn't ask why.

 

*

 

The first time that Athelstan entered their bedroom, it was the middle of the night and they were both actually sleeping. But then the door opened suddenly and Lagertha woke quickly, recognising the frozen silhouette frozen. She sat up, Ragnar mumbling into his pillow.

 

“Athelstan?”

 

Athelstan seemed on the brink of running away but instead he plunged into the bedroom and managed to walk over to Lagertha's side of the bed. Ragnar woke up properly then and only smirked a little when he saw who had joined them. Lagertha focused on Athelstan, because he was sweating and looking more haunted than usual.

 

“I...I'm sorry, I should...”

 

Lagertha touched his arm; he let out a shaky breath. “Bad dreams?”

 

Athelstan looked at her helplessly. “I don't know.”

 

Lagertha nodded, that fierce protectiveness striking through her again as she pulled the duvet back, not apologising for how very naked she and her husband were. Athelstan, who had recently gained access to his bank account again and so had bought himself some clothes including pyjamas, went very pink. Lagertha tugged on his arm gently.

 

“You'll know we're real this way.”

 

Ragnar lay down again, even turning his back so that Athelstan would have some kind of privacy as he made himself comfortable. “You're letting a draft in, priest.”

 

Athelstan, still very pink, hesitated. Lagertha stroked his arm. “Just sleep. We're too tired for anything else.”

 

Ragnar laughed, because they were rarely too tired for that. But Athelstan got into bed and allowed himself to be positioned between them, that way he'd be surrounded by a reality that he could trust. Lagertha wrapped an arm around his waist and lightly kissed his shoulder. Athelstan leaned towards her but kept quiet. He relaxed surprisingly quickly and didn't twitch or cry out in his sleep. Lagertha smiled against his shoulder and kept a firm hold on him.

 

In the morning, Ragnar was pressed up against Athelstan's side, a fact which didn't startle Athelstan a great deal. He knew Ragnar after all. Ragnar kissed Athelstan's neck, then his ear, then his cheek. Lagertha could feel how fast Athelstan's heartbeat was but she couldn't see any fear in his expression. She pressed in to kiss his collarbone.

 

Then there was a tumble of knocks at the door and Gyda and Björn rushed in with news of a man that Rollo had just found sleeping on the pub's front doorstep. Neither of them looked surprised when they saw Athelstan in their parents' bed. Good, that would only help Athelstan.

 

In fact, just before he scrambled out of bed after the children, because he'd promised to make French toast for Gyda's breakfast, he kissed Lagertha's cheek and then Ragnar's temple. Ragnar pulled Lagertha close and kissed her deeply before sliding down her body with a growl. Her hands gripped handfuls of his braids, directing his fervour.

 

Athelstan would hear them. Of course.

 

*

 

Athelstan grew a beard. He looked at himself in the mirror, a plastic razor in hand, but each day decided against shaving it off. Björn, who was surrounded by bearded men, had jeered at Athelstan's smooth hairless jaw. Now he sulked because he was the only male around without a beard. Rollo told him he'd grow one soon enough and that it'd be more impressive than Athelstan's. That cheered Björn up instantly.

 

Athelstan didn't always join Lagertha and Ragnar in their bed, but he did appear in their doorway whenever his dreams were particularly troubling. He slept between them and always disappeared early the next morning, brushing kisses to their skin. Ragnar's smile seemed permanent, even though he obviously wanted more but he saw what Lagertha did and so let Athelstan continue to piece himself back together in their company at his own pace.

 

Athelstan prayed by himself and sometimes went to church, a new one where he knew nobody. He needed comfort and solidity; he sought out Lagertha and Ragnar for both.

 

*

 

Floki searched for the people who'd hurt Athelstan. According to whatever patterns he’d been able to discern, it was likely that the pair had just been looking for any money that they could get their hands on. There were some streets in the city that likely suspects stuck to. Floki would find them and then Ragnar and Lagertha would deal with them. Athelstan already worried about too much.

 

*

 

One night, Athelstan was sat on a sofa in the upstairs lounge with its decent-sized television and abundance of mismatched but comfortable chairs. He was sat next to Lagertha, his head listing close to her shoulder. Lagertha was checking the local news on her iPad – during the previous week a fight had broken out in the street beside The Longhouse and Ragnar, Torstein and Rollo had been in the thick of it. There'd been a problem with a less-than-legal supplier and someone had taken umbrage and the police had been called. Ragnar and the others had already melted away by the time the police arrived. Floki had found nothing concerning being discussed online and it looked as though the local news only had the bare facts, no names were even mentioned.

 

Athelstan intertwined his fingers with hers, Lagertha squeezed his hand. His hair was soft against her cheek, he'd been growing it and it reached his shoulders now. Ragnar had threatened to braid it; Athelstan had told Gyda that if he wanted braids, he'd ask for her help, not her father's. Lagertha smiled at the memory.

 

Athelstan kissed her knuckles; the gesture felt thoughtful so Lagertha put her iPad down to give him her full attention. Ragnar was out boxing and Gyda and Bjorn were spending time with Rollo and Siggy. So it was just Lagertha and Athelstan whose brow was creased and whose thoughts were clearly heavy. Lagertha turned to kiss his forehead, a kiss that lingered until Athelstan looked up at her. His eyes were almost beseeching, they usually got like that after a particularly vivid dream. Lagertha ran her free fingers through his hair, that rush of protectiveness making itself known again.

 

She waited for him to speak.

 

“I should want to go back,” he said at last, his words revealing themselves like a sigh.

 

A smile curled the corners of Lagertha’s mouth. “But you don’t.”

 

Athelstan shook his head slowly. “I still…I think I know who I was, who I still am sort of, but it all feels…it doesn’t feel close, it feels more like it was someone else.”

 

Lagertha tugged his hair teasingly and let the silence unroll for a little while before replying. “You’re Athelstan, past and present, there and here. That’s what matters.”

 

Athelstan looked at her, his eyes brilliant and bright, then he arched up and actually kissed her lips. He tasted sweet and desperate and there was _hunger_ in the teeth that bit her bottom lip. Lagertha buried her hands in his hair and hauled him closer. Athelstan moaned brokenly, it was very fitting.

 

Lagertha slowed the kiss, doing some biting of her own before resting her forehead against his. Athelstan was breathing hard but he was smiling. She ran a thumb along his wet lips, so different to Ragnar’s but just as tempting.

 

“Which Athelstan was that?” she teased.

 

Athelstan laughed, the noise just as broken as the moan. “I get the feeling that I didn’t kiss married women before I met you.”

 

Lagertha pulled his hair again and smirked a little as he choked out another moan. Athelstan eyed her like he was wondering whether he should say something or not. Lagertha lifted her eyebrows expectantly, that did the trick.

 

“Would I…when the children don’t need tutoring anymore, would you still need me?”

 

There were several questions packed into those few words. Lagertha combed her fingers through his hair and massaged his scalp. She wondered briefly how things would have gone if Athelstan had walked into The Longhouse with all his memories intact. That didn’t matter.

 

She pulled him close for another kiss, her tongue tracing his lips and beyond, before answering. “There’s room for you here, priest, until you don’t want it anymore.”

 

Athelstan chuckled in a very strangled way and averted his gaze. “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

 

Lagertha smiled and pulled him under her again.

 

*

 

They talked more afterwards. Athelstan had already spoken to Father Cuthbert about his decision; Father Cuthbert had told him that he should stay if he felt called to London. They could cope without him, though they would miss him. Father Cuthbert had said that they would pack up Athelstan’s flat and send everything to The Longhouse as soon as he gave the word. Father Cuthbert would be getting free drinks for the night when he arrived.

 

That was when Ragnar found them, a grin spreading widely across his face. He dropped down next to Athelstan and curled around him proprietarily, kissing Athelstan’s neck and enjoying the moan that gained him.

 

“You moved on without me,” he accused them, clearly put out that he hadn’t gotten to participate.

 

Lagertha gestured that he was here now; Ragnar grinned again and pulled Athelstan into a deep messy kiss. Athelstan’s groans increased, particularly when Lagertha ran hands under his shirt and over his nipples as she bit his ear lightly. Ragnar ran greedy fingers over Athelstan’s neck, his mouth following. Lagertha kissed her husband when he rose across Athelstan; she wanted to mark Athelstan’s neck too.

 

She ran a fond hand across Athelstan’s chest; he was breathing deeply and looking dazed in a much better way than before. He leaned eagerly in to kiss her, Ragnar pawing at Athelstan’s shirt to try and get it undone. It wouldn’t be the first time that Lagertha and Ragnar had used the lounge sofa for such activities.

 

Athelstan sounded breathless, his hand reaching for her shirt. “This is real, this is definitely real.”

 

That sounded far too much like a question. Lagertha bit his lip hard and he hissed in recognition. He tried to plaster himself closer, he tried to hold onto Ragnar too. What images and dreams was he clawing away? Lagertha reached for the buttons of his jeans.

 

Ragnar nosed determinedly at Athelstan’s jaw, thinking along the same lines as his wife. “New memories can be better.”

 

*

 

The children still needed tutoring so Athelstan helped Gyda with her music and most of her school work, doing the same with an always reluctant Björn. The children easily accepted how often Athelstan occupied their parents’ bed and the way that Ragnar and Lagertha kissed him in front of them. Rollo rolled his eyes though and declared that they were all driving him to drink.

 

Athelstan still worked behind the bar, laughing with Helga when she came out of the kitchen to talk to him. He found that he enjoyed looking after the pub's window boxes. He didn’t remember a love of gardening; maybe he’d never had the chance to discover it before. Now he often smelled of soil and one day he presented Lagertha with a tiny pot of blue violets. She smiled and left them to flower happily on the kitchen windowsill. Gyda liked looking after them.

 

Athelstan talked to Father Cuthbert regularly and was happy when his old boss came to visit him with the sparse boxes that had made up Athelstan’s previous life. Athelstan looked through them and remembered more but was puzzled by some items, feeling no connection to them at all. He was very pleased to see his Bible again.

 

He prayed every day; nobody bothered him when he did.

 

At night, he lay between Lagertha and Ragnar. It was frequently a while before they all fell asleep. Athelstan almost always bore marks on his collarbones and neck now. He often looked less haunted too.

 

*

 

“Athelstan!”

 

That was a stranger’s voice. Lagertha looked over sharply, she was standing with a group of staff and regulars who were currently sprawled out in front of the pub, making good use of the outdoor furniture. The weather was hot and most people were outside enjoying the sun, a few odd staff members had stayed inside the pub to man the bar. Athelstan was leaning back against a tall table, his arm wrapped loosely around Helga's shoulders. The crisp lines of an expertly-inked tattoo dominated his right shoulder, the design involved a cross necklace and a couple of Bible verses. His beard was thick and full and his long hair was sparsely cluttered with braids, Gyda's handiwork. Rollo had snorted with laughter when he'd first laid eyes on Athelstan that morning so Athelstan had smiled earnestly, Lagertha had recognised that warning sign but Rollo hadn't. Athelstan had then told Gyda that her Uncle would love for her to work on his hair too. The look on Rollo's face had been fantastic.

 

Now somebody was shouting Athelstan's name with excitement and disbelief. Ragnar was looking intently for the voice's source too, in fact everybody had shifted slightly, and there she was, a girl, slightly shorter than Athelstan, with thick red hair and a delighted look on her face. Lagertha didn't recognise her, was she from where Athelstan had once called home? Or maybe she was from the mission church in London that had originally brought him to the area? This could be awkward or painful or both.

 

Björn pushed through the crowd and stared unimpressed at the girl. Athelstan had looked surprised initially at the sound of his name but was looking happy now. Lagertha lifted her chin, yes, Athelstan had recognised the visitor. She still watched carefully though, so did Ragnar, so did Björn.

 

“Catelyn, Father Cuthbert didn't tell me you were working in London,” Athelstan greeted her easily, but didn't make any move to shake her hand or hug her.

 

Catelyn didn't seem upset by that, she just smiled wider, her gaze a little bit sweet and adoring. Oh of course. Lagertha hid a tiny smile, Athelstan had said that he hadn't been romantically attached to anybody back home but naturally other people might have been so attached to him without him noticing. Ragnar was smirking as he abruptly disappeared into the pub. Lagertha hoped that he'd remember her rum and coke.

 

Catelyn was looking at Athelstan like she was drinking him in, apparently she hadn't noticed Helga yet, blonde curvy Helga who was stood very close to Athelstan. Floki was watching the scene avidly and suddenly giggled, one of his usual sudden sounds that nobody in the group reacted to except Helga who turned to smile at him and share in the joke. Björn was still glaring at Catelyn, Athelstan touched his shoulder lightly but Björn didn't budge an inch.

 

Catelyn spoke “I'm here on holiday, you know, like you.”

 

Ah, hoping to find Athelstan perhaps, or just a coincidence? Perhaps both. She seemed eager but not calculated, not yet anyway. Athelstan smiled gently.

 

“It's home for me here, not a holiday, Catelyn.”

 

Catelyn nodded, her smile visibly dimming as she stepped forward, lifting a hand like she wanted to touch him. “I know, of course, how are you? Father Cuthbert said you were hurt.”

 

Athelstan didn't twitch when she touched his arm but he didn't look completely comfortable either. More memories and dreams perhaps? Helga's arm stayed firm around his waist, they all knew how his mind still so often rolled and rebelled. Björn folded his arms, completely unimpressed.

 

A cold glass was pressed into Lagertha's hands. Ragnar kissed her and nodded towards Athelstan questioningly. Lagertha mouthed the lip of her glass, knowing that Ragnar would recognise her expression. He chuckled and watched from by her side.

 

Athelstan explained that he was doing well, thank you, and that he was working in The Longhouse and with the owners' children. Catelyn seemed to properly notice Björn then and almost stooped down to talk to him but her cheery expression faltered at his hostile one. Athelstan squeezed his shoulder, a silent request which Björn actually obeyed – he didn't say anything. Catelyn focused again on Athelstan, her expression soft with longing and hope.

 

“Are you _really_ going to stay here?”

 

Athelstan smiled easily, it really suited him. “St Mark's has been good to me and so has The Longhouse.”

 

St Mark's was the church he'd become part of in London after deciding that he didn't want to go back to the one that he'd been working in for Father Cuthbert. They'd been very understanding. The fact that he'd mentioned it in the same breath as The Longhouse said a lot. Catelyn nodded, more than a little crestfallen, and took note of Helga for the first time. Her expression became even more crestfallen. Gyda made her way over to Rollo who scooped her up onto his shoulders so that she'd have a better view. She began checking his braids, Rollo hadn't said a word against them because Gyda now braided extremely well. Siggy had approved too which had only made Gyda's smile even prouder.

 

Catelyn's gaze travelled from Athelstan to Helga, she was clearly trying to work out how to word a very significant question. Athelstan had told Ragnar and Lagertha that he now clearly remembered his relationship history and that there _had_ been something to remember, still Lagertha wondered if any of that history had looked like Helga, or like Ragnar and Lagertha for that matter.

 

Björn had clearly realised Catelyn's dilemma because he snorted loudly and derisively. Helga shoved a hand against his back, playing at being insulted. The movement prompted Catelyn to finally speak.

 

“Is she...?”

 

Athelstan laughed a little in disbelief and a shade of embarrassment that he still got mocked for. “Floki would poison me.”

 

Floki looked extremely pleased with that pronouncement, Helga laughed and didn't hold Athelstan any less close. Catelyn looked confused, then her gaze fell on Athelstan's neck, bared by his loose t-shirt. Lagertha hummed softly, she'd enjoyed teasing the soft skin there with her teeth. Athelstan had moaned and thrashed, so desperately wanting more. He was still so responsive and he'd proven himself to be a good student too. Ragnar made a move as though to join Athelstan but Lagertha held him back.

 

Catelyn's gaze drifted over the amused crowd watching her, her own smile dimly warm and sad. “You're happy.”

 

It was almost a question, like she wanted to know who in particular Athelstan was happy with. But Athelstan just matched her smile, his own bereft of any sadness as Helga slyly kissed his chin.

 

“I'm where I need to be.”

 

“And where you _want_ to be?”

 

“Yes.”

 

He didn't offer to buy her a drink and Catelyn's gaze kept raking over the crowd of staff and regulars, so obviously wanting to know who had marked Athelstan, who had claimed him. Ragnar's smirk stayed extremely smug even when Torstein nudged him sharply. Lagertha drained her rum and coke and watched as Catelyn walked off at last, something subdued in her posture. She hadn't even tried to persuade Athelstan away.

 

Athelstan's gaze sought out Lagertha and Ragnar. Ragnar winked at him and drew Lagertha into a filthy kiss that made Arne and Torstein catcall. Lagertha slid her hands into the back pockets of Ragnar's jeans and ground her hips against him before pulling away, his breath hot against her cheek. Athelstan smiled, haunting memories and dreams pushed back for the moment. Just under his jawline there was a patch of skin that was gleaming in the sun. Lagertha had plans for that sun-warm flesh.

 

Ragnar clinked his half-full glass against her empty one. He probably had plans for that skin too. Lagertha's smile became sharp and she nodded when Gyda asked from Rollo's shoulders if she could braid her mother's hair. Helga had left Athelstan's side now and Björn had scuffed his foot along the pavement before accepting the lemonade that Athelstan had ordered for him. Athelstan still wasn't whole but he was himself, a different but equally valid identity than who he'd been before. Athelstan was standing alone in the sun but he wasn't really. The mark on his neck and the series of bite marks across Lagertha's ribs and Ragnar's thighs attested to that.

 

_-the end_


End file.
